Surf on the Couch
by snatchemall
Summary: When a particular address caught her attention, all the strange feelings and the odd throbbing of heart had started. Maybe it's because she is about to sleep on a stranger's couch, or maybe it's because it belongs to a man with a marble-like complexion, eyes like the summer grass, and warm hands. AU.
1. Chapter 1

I had handfuls of reasons for catching a flight to Glasgow Airport right after landing on Heathrow, not even giving a glimpse at London's world-famous scenery: [Brave Heart], [Highlander], [38 Steps], [Red Road] and [Festival]; Scotland's landscape depicted in those magnificent films! The vast field and a billion blades of the grass-it looked so soft that I was sure they'd melt under my fingertips-on the gentle plain; oh so feathery sunlight playing and shimmering in the Summer sky there, unlike the steamy air in Japan in the same season; thousands of lakes scattered around the area, under the stubborn name of 'Loch'; stiff rock mountains towering the 'lochs', which made me wonder if they really hid fairies and Nessie in the dreamlike layers of mist around themselves. Oh, I must not forget Barry's, the cheap and nice black tea maker from the neighbouring country, Ireland; unique and attractive complexion of Scottish people; their somewhat crude yet amiable dialect! David Tennant, James Mcavoy, Tom Conti, and Devorah Kerr; whoa, that gorgeous actors from the blessed legion!

I've been deep into a dreamy state for almost two days, from Narita Airport to London, and again from London to Glasgow. Stepping out of the airplane, my ears and eyes were immediately filled with the auburn hairs, blue, grey and green eyes, and the tough, rhotic Scottish accents; when I saw "Fáilte roimh Scotland(Welcome to Scotland)" in the welcoming sign, I couldn't help but sigh with the giddy realisation that I finally made it to my long-time dreamland. Unfortunately, my happiness lasted only 30 seconds, about five steps from the airport's gate. Silly, silly me. I should've expected that the weather in Scotland could be very changeable in June; I shouldn't have shove the umbrella and the thick clothes at the very bottom of my jumbled suitcase, and now I was paying for my carelessness this early, urgh! What in the world made me believe that I would be fine anyhow? I tried hard to suppress the urge to pout at that stupid drizzle, fished out a thin button-up shirt from my purse, and draped it on my head to block some raindrops. The houseowner, who allowed me to couchsurf in his(or her) home, wrote it in the last letter that he(or she) would wait for me at the airport's parking lot.

The fine droplets were scattered to every directions, like powdery snow. My thin clothes, probably the thinnest one in the entire city of Glasgow, clung onto my whole damp body. Ah, my beloved Tatsuki. If Tatsuki saw me now, and found out what I was going to do next, surely she would scold me and pinch my poor cheeks hard. If I had made a mistake somehow, however, I should've corrected it before I took the flight from Japan; all the chance was already out of my hand. So, just keep calm, Inoue Orihime. You finally mastered internet not so long ago, didn't you? I forced a smile to no one else, while muttering some reassuring words to myself. I always have felt grateful that smiling is one of my few innate talents, not like using a cell phone or searching around the internet, which required a couple of years, numberless efforts, and my friends' immense patience to fully learn the skills. Of course, I knew that I couldn't stop the rain just by smiling, and I can't make Mr.(or Ms.) U. Schiffer show up in front of me right now with this mere upturn of the lips, but at least it could prevent wrinkles, couldn't it? Oh, come to think of it, all this uneasiness had started from the internet thing! Crossing the vast-maybe someone on the Moon could find this place-car park, I chuckled at this weird situation.

So, I think I must flash back to this January to find out what was the start. At that time, I had decided that I would travel around Scotland with some money saved, but most of the details were still in the dark; my mind was blank when I was skimming over thousands of addresses, introductions and contact lists on couchsurfing sites, while automatically scrolling the mouse wheel. My friends didn't know how I would be sleeping in Europe; I had to keep it a secret, because they have been a bit overprotective to me, so it was obvious that they would snatch and tear my passport and tickets when they knew that I was going to sleep in a total stranger's house...Ah, this is not the point. Anyway, the moment when a particular address caught my attention, all the strange feelings and the odd throbbing of my heart had started. The post in question read like this:

_ 'From 23 to 30 June! You can find and look around my house on Google Maps; type 12 cumin place, Edinburgh, England! If you're interested, contact me +44 70 xxxx xxxx by mobile, or xxxxx by email! Handwritten letters are welcomed as well loll :P'_

I chose to write a letter. If someone asks me why I didn't use a phone or email, I think I have to answer that it's a sort of an outcome of my analogue instinct, still active within my soul because of my late entry into the digital civilisation. Being too accustomed to the keyboard and those printed letters, the human race has forgotten how much information had been kept in the handwriting. I, Inoue Orihime, one of the last remaining guardians of handwriting, shall fight against the dark force, who dares attempt to take all the traditional writing tools from the mankind...Concentrate, Hime! Anyhow, the letter was my own way to identify a stranger. It took three weeks to receive the reply; as expected, I could find out several things about my counterpart, yet it drove me into constant confusion, which still hasn't been solved.

Mr, or Ms. Schiffer's letter was way too plain and bland; it was almost simpler than my usual shopping list. The sender didn't even bother to start the letter with greetings like_ 'Hi, thanks for your letter. I'm Demian Walker; Demian is fine'._ The letter contained nothing more than the distance from the Glasgow Airport to the house I would be staying; the accommodation(A two-storied building with a tiny garden, three rooms, two bathrooms, with a living room and a kitchen); estimated time to get to the main sights in Edinburgh by foot; the recommendation of a few restaurants to go. I must've believed that the letter had come from Edinburgh's travel bureau, unless it wasn't imprinted with whatever nib he(or she) used. From the elegant writing without any smudges or miswritings, I could tell that the writer was really a practical and straightforward person; he(or she) would not hesitate for a second to shut himself(or herself) out from anything or anyone intrudes into the allowed-both physical and mental-space; his(or her)words might be sharp and clear without any hidden meanings; this writer couldn't be the most friendly host, but he(or she) would give the necessary amount of honour.

This discovery made me frown at my second letter, which I wrote about my arrival time and appearance_('I arrive at Glasgow Airport at 10:25 AM. You can easily find me; look for an asian girl in a yellow dress...'_). How could someone like such a well-sharpened blade post _that_ kind of advertisement? I thought that maybe Mr.(or Ms.) Schiffer could be a prototype android from NASA or a scientific company, but I soon felt sorry for guessing in such a rude way about whom shared his(or her) own space, only to be annoyed by the second reply. How in the world can I find a person only with 'a black Murcielago' as a hint? I searched the vehicle on the internet to see what the Murcie-whatever looks like; I skipped around all the gasping, drooling and endless worshiping about the car, but as a dumb at cars, I only could find that Murcielago is amazingly expensive and it looks somewhat, uh, unique. I didn't know why I hadn't pressed Mr.(or Ms) Schiffer's phone number and yelled that he(or she) also should've written about hair colour, eye colour and what attire could be when we see each other for the first time. Now I was standing on Glasgow's wet and cold tarmac load, and I could do nothing but wait for minutes or hours to see what the letter U in his(or her) name stands for; is it Ursula or Ulysses? Oh, maybe I could find it out the next day, if I was out of luck.

When I just passed the second crosswalk, the wind suddenly turned into a small rainstorm; I almost missed the shirt on my head, and it literally made me be soaked to the bones. I bit my lips to stifle the frustrated groan. A guest with tangled hair and almost see-through clothes, and she might ruin the wonderful car's seat and ask for a bath even before exchanging greetings properly. Aaaah, great. I would make the fantastic first impression. I struggled to comb my long, unruly locks with the chilled fingers and put on the shirt to hide my underwears beneath the thin, almost transparent layer of my yellow dress. Staring down at my horrible state, I suddenly found that this whole ordeal was just hilarious, so I giggled to myself until I felt someone's eye on me. Realising that I must've looked like a crazy girl, my cheeks heated up with embarrassment. I pressed my lips together and hesitantly turned my head to see who was watching my silly doing.

Only a man was standing around me, and he looked quite young; I supposed that he couldn't be older than early in this thirties. He was clad in black from head to toe; his neat suit, the tie, those shiny shoes, and even the umbrella shielding the guy's raven hair from the evil raindrops. Had he not held a brown briefcase, anyone must've thought that he was going to attend a funeral, or maybe the man was supposed to be mourned but walked out of the coffin by some kind of miracle...Back to earth, Orihime! My guess made some sense though, since he had an extraordinary complexion. When it comes to the man in front of me, no one could say that 'as pale as a marble' is a simile, even though everybody knows that Scottish people tend to be born with fair skin colour. On the almost luminant skin, his black hair and a intense pair of green eyes made such a shocking contrast; if Scotland's landscape could be pressed into the form of a human, it definitely would be this man.

And those eyes...it took me a while to realise that I almost held a staring contest with him. To break the spell of the impressive orbs, I shook my head like a dog. A part of myself sensed that he was the one I was to meet; this realisation dawned on me when I found a black Murcielago parked behind the man. I felt my cold lips curl into a new smile. I stretched a hand towards the guy. Seems that he was surprised at my sudden approach, because his already big eyes got slightly bigger.

"A fine day, isn't it? Nice meeting you, Mr. Schiffer. I'm Inoue Orihime. Orihime is my first name."

Mr. Schiffer gazed at my dripping hand for a while before cautiously grabbing it. Not like the snow-white skin, his big hand was unexpectedly warm. When his eyes travelled from the joined hands to my eyes, my chilled fingers squirmed faintly in his pleasant heat.

"...Ah, I have not realised that I did not tell my given name. I apologise. I am Ulquiorra Schiffer."

His posture is calm and collected, but strangely, I had an inkling that he was having a hard time with proceeding this exchange. We were engulfed in a long and awkward silence, still not releasing each other's hand. To my relief, Mr. Schiffer was the first to speak again.

"...However, I prefer to be called by my surname, Ms. Inoue."

I bit my tongue to hold an amused grin. I bet it must be an interesting journey, indeed.

* * *

I apologise to all the Scottish people, I've been Scotland only once in my lifetime so it must be hard to read this fic without groaning at my weird fantasies of your homeland ;w;;w;;w; This will be in seven chapters overall. Allow me to know where I made mistakes and correct them X-)

+Please pretend that you're listening to "Níl Sé'n Lá" by Celtic Woman.


	2. Chapter 2

In Mr. Schiffer's car, we had a hearty, fruitful conversation for an hour and ten minutes from the airport to his home; the dialogue went like this:

"I found your house on Google Maps, and it was real tidy and pretty!"

"Is that so."

"Oh...do you mind that I...kinda peeped at your personal place?"

"I do not mind much."

"...I see."

"..."

"Well, you wrote that it takes about 40 minutes to Arthur's Seat from your home by foot; could I make it in that time? You know, I'm quite slow."

"I do not know, since it is the average time."

"...I see."

"..."

For the rest of the nerve-wrecking ride, I had to listen to the Scottish radio news, which I couldn't even understand half of it.

It seems that the rain wouldn't stop soon, so I couldn't do anything outside on my first day in Edinburgh. One might say that it's nothing more than a minor nuisance to a Japanese woman, who has grown up with the annual downpour and the frequent earthquakes. I just couldn't venture into Mr. Schiffer's personality-or patience, to be precise-, though. As I got into his entrance, I felt like some sort of spell bound my all fours. Mr. Schiffer's downcast eyelashes when he was staring the damp passenger seat; his slender hand, gracefully turning the knob of the front door for me; slippers and fresh towels shoved into my arms-they smelled clean and crisp, just like a fine detergent and the host- before I could even take a glimpse at the sitting room; his deep, low voice introducing his daily routine and the basic rules in elegant received pronunciation; the sterile, desolate scenery inside, more like a clean room rather than someone's living space; all the utensils, tools and furniture arranged in an extremely meticulous manner...all of them kept hissing at me: don't do anything, stay still, don't mess up with my space.

There weren't many things for me to do, really. From burying me in a dozen layers of towels to stuffing my growling stomach with a fried egg, sausages and roasted tomatos, Mr. Schiffer covered everything before going back to his work-by the way, when he informed that he was a tax accountant at Edinburgh city hall and said that he excused himself for a bit to come to meet me, I had to purse my lips not to say out loud that the profession somehow suited him well-at 12: 30 p.m.. So I chose to sit dazedly on the sofa, paying no attention to streams of the broad accent from the tele. Oh, speaking of streams, I took a shower after he went out. I found that a bathroom in the UK doesn't have the plughole outside the bathtub, just like a Japanese one. This discovery wasn't that pleasant, though. When I was busy myself looking for any forgotten dirt or hair on the floor after drying myself, a sudden, stinging feeling shot from somewhere in my chest. I wiped the fogged mirror to see my annoyed face in it. Instead, the woman with a blue towel on her head and a hand on her bust in the glass stared me back with a look of...what? I puckered my lips to my reflection. Why did I feel this deep sympathy from the...neat freak? I fled from the bathroom, not willing to admit that I pitied the man not even after six hours from the first encounter.

I glanced at the clock beneath my sleep-deprived eyelids; it said it was 3 p.m.. I was half-lying on the couch playing with my combed hair, as if I was a new cushion. A part of me was trying to remind myself that I should clean the coffee table covered with my journal, a map of Scotland, and pens. I must be checking my overall routine, which would be started from tomorrow, but my biological clock was out of order; It's no wonder since I flew around a half of the Earth, and went back eight hours from Japan's time. That's why I also didn't find it strange when I dozed off on the sofa, leaving the TV keep chattering.

Just before I woke up, I dreamed of a butterfly with a pair of flaming viridian wings. When it sat onto my shoulder, the tingling heat made me shudder and snap open my eyes. The first thing greeted my half-conscious sight was eyes with the same colour of the butterfly in the dream. I wonder why they look so familiar...Mr. Schiffer?! In my peripheral vision, his hand was in the air, above the same place where the green-winged creature landed upon... So, his hand was on my shoulder, not the butterfly... Still in a daze, I heard myself murmuring something like...

_"Ah, the butterfly."_

...What just did I say? The astonishment completely kicked the remaining sleep out of myself. I slapped a hand onto my mouth to block any of silly words to come out. When I stole a glance at Mr. Schiffer, however, I relaxed a bit that he didn't understand what I muttered about. Fortunately, it looked like I managed it in Japanese. I folded my hands on my knees, took a silent, deep breath, and did a thing a person in a good sense should do at this moment: saying hello.

"W-welcome home, Mr. Schiffer. It-it's a lovely night!"

"Yes, it is. Ms. Inoue. The rain has stopped."

His response was as dry as a grumpy morning weather caster. Smiling at it, I was about to apologise to him for messing up the table with my belongings; instead, I feebly squeaked with embarrassment when I found that he was holding my map, covered with stupidly colourful routes by ballpoint pens and highlighters criss-crossing the entire Scotland. As if he noticed my eyes on him, Mr. Schiffer looked back and forth at my blushing face and the map before sticking it out to me a bit hastefully. It could be considered rude, but strangely, his blunt behaviour didn't bother me that much. He was still standing, and I started wondering how long the time has passed. He said that he always comes home at 7 p.m., and now the clock pointed at 10 p.m..So I've slept for seven hours straight on the only couch in this living room..._goodness!_

"Oh-oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Schiffer. How long have you been standing like that? I'm terribly sorry. It's because of the time difference thing...I meant to stay awake until night, I really did, but I just couldn't help myself... Oh, but I cleaned it all after I took a shower! Do you know that Japanese bathrooms don't have the plughole outside the bathtub, like yours? So it was easy to use the shower, thank you! ...ah, I forgot to wipe the car seat, didn't I? It must've got all wet because of me, but I dumped the task on you. Ugh, I'm such a terrible guest! And you...you look like you changed clothes. Did you take a shower, or have anything for dinner? If you are hungry, let me cook something for you as an apology!"

My logical self shouted at me to shut up and stop making a bigger fool of myself, but my mouth already was in the autopilot mode like whenever I get flustered. If I was in another place, I'd silently praise myself for managing all of the sentences in English. It wasn't the best time to appreciate my newly-found ability, either. I finally stopped my ramblings and dropped my feet onto the floor to give him a seat. As I rose a few inches from the sofa, however, Mr. Schiffer gently shook his head to stop me.

"That is fine. You can stay here."

And he sat where my feet has been. I thought that he would dust off his precious couch, but Mr. Schiffer didn't do that; he didn't even cringe when he sank himself into the furniture...Umm, have I blinded myself with the prejudice against him? My face burned with the self-shame; I placed my hands on it to chill out the unpleasant fever. While I frantically tried to come up with any of proper words, a suffocating silence filled this sitting room. Oh, yes. I was right about one thing that you're not that sociable host, but can you give me some time to gather my nonexistent wits to break the ice? Surprisingly, Mr. Schiffer opened his lips, as if he read my thoughts! I won't say anything bad about Elizabeth Bennet!

"I saw your map."

I blinked at that word, so what's about it, sir? He paused, but not receiving any response from me, he went on what he was saying.

"Your route was quite...interesting. Why do you visit Thurso first, out of all places in Scotland? Do you not know that the town is fairly far from Edinburgh, so it will be hard to make it in a day?"

Whoa, would he know how wonderful his voice is? Why do you keep it to yourself, Mr. Schiffer?; I chocked this question down. Oh, did he say something about my route? Yes, I knew that it wasn't like the typical plan of travellers to Scotland; mostly they start their tour in Edinburgh, and drop by the nearest places from the Scottish capital. I made it reversed, though. So I would be starting from the northernmost town of the Isle of Britain within the mass transportation's reach. Then, I would narrow my moving range towards Edinburgh; passing through Isle of Skye, Inverness, Fort William, Aberdeen and Dundee, and I could celebrate my last night of the journey in Edinburgh. I found it amusing that the line of my trace drew wonderful sigma(∑) from north to south.

Did I have a special reason for planning it like that? Mmm, the answer would be 'no'. I just wanted to cover Scotland as much as I could. Indeed, I was itching to keep all the images of landscape here in my heart; walk on the gentle slope covered by the soft lawn with my bare feet; count how many 'lochs' I would dip my all fours in, _aaaah_. To me, nothing made in the humanity can be a match for creations by mother nature, and the Scotland had the magnificent scenery in the serene, mystic way. I tried not to look excited too much, but failed miserably; Mr. Schiffer must be thinking that I was a bit out of my mind, and I couldn't deny it...completely.

"I just wanted to travel around Scotland as much as possible. Um, you don't have to concern yourself about my, um, whereabout. I'm going to buy a prepaid mobile tomorrow! I'll let you know if I need to sleep at wherever I'll be visiting. I already planned to pack things for a night's stay, so no worries! Today I've acted like a fool more than enough, and I really don't want to burden you more, haha."

Oh, I sounded like a scolded child, and I felt ashamed again, recalling what I've done in the last several hours; just when will you act your age, Orihime? You're already in junior year at university! I couldn't look Mr. Schiffer in the eyes any longer, let alone be in the same space with him. Scratching an imaginary itch on the back of my head, I got up from my seat. I needed some space to gather myself.

"If you need to do something from now on, don't mind me! I think I should look over the plan again, and get some more sleep to fit into the time here. I understand it must be hard to lend a stranger your room; I don't know how I can thank you more for being this generous! Good night!"

I flashed my brightest smile, and gave a quick bow to him. My room was upstairs. It was a tad bit weird that I would be sleeping on the same floor with Mr. Schiffer-Liz Bennet, Liz Bennet!-, but a bathroom was between his room and mine enough to keep each other's privacy. I wasn't able to look at Mr. Schiffer's face after bidding a good night, picking up my things, and stepping onto the staircase.

I still couldn't turn my head towards him when he grasped my shoulders out of nowhere. Why, why, why you do this, Mr. Schiffer?

"You must stay nights here."

What are you talking about? "...yes?"

"As you mentioned, it was a hard decision for me to share my house with you. I had adjusted everything for your stay in this week. If anything happens on you and your schedule, I need to rearrange the whole matter."

All of a sudden, he went silent. I mustered some courage to face him. I watched those delicate hands falling to his side.

"...and it will trouble me immensely."

A hint of anxiety in the voice made me stare him in the eyes. Oh, I saw that face earlier at the airport; a frightened child was hiding beneath the mask of coolness, at a loss about everything. Seeing that subtle yet fragile expression, I felt like crying; I balled my hands into a tight fist not to burst into tears. Mr. Schiffer's eye were darkened with another wave of apprehension; when he spoke again, I realised that he misunderstood my gesture.

"If you are not comfortable around me, I shall find another..."

"No!"

Ah, I finally got myself into a bigger trouble. I was a couple of steps above Mr. Schiffer; that's why I could easily embrace him. I, in turn, was wrapped in his scent-the clean and cozy mixture of his clothes, soap, shampoo and body wash-, and his body heat like flames in the fireplace.

I came to myself when I felt a few strands of wet hair on my cheek; of course they were Mr. Schiffer's. Separating myself from him in a hurry, I almost stumbled backward. _What got into you, Orihime_? It would only worsen everything if I ran into Edinburgh's cool, humid night wind...even if I badly, badly wanted to do it right now. So I dropped my head instead, to quell this boiling mortification inside me.

"...Uh, but, well, I-I can't give up my plan."

If someone converted the amount of this deadly silence into weight, the whole Edinburgh would be flattened under its heaviness.

"B-but, I really don't want to bother you, either. So... I will start it early and move fast to be back in time. Call it a curfew! How about seven in the evening? You also come back from the work at that time, aren't you?

It was quite a reasonable offer, or so I thought. However, Mr. Schiffer shook his head no.

"I have another plan."

"...yes?" Can't I think of a better answer?

"Go to sleep. I shall explain tomorrow morning, and it will be the best way to satisfy both of us."

His face was full of firm, unyielding resolution, and I didn't know what was the source of the strong expression. I gave up and mumbled a good night, though. Numbly, I climbed up the stairs, entered my room, dropped the crumpled map on the night table. After flopping onto the bed, I was suddenly hit by a realisation that it has been yet to be a full day in Scotland.

* * *

Please keep pretending that you're listening to 'Níl Sé'n Lá' by Celtic Woman ;-). I don't own the characters from bleach. Feel free to correct errors or give your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

"May I ask you a thing?"

A slight nod.

"How in the world does the UK, I mean, Scottish government works?"

"If you are concerned with my job, do not be."

"But... how could you take a week off all of a sudden? Are your parents sort of high officers or..."

"Both of them passed away ten years ago."

"Ah...I'm...truly sorry to hear that."

"It is fine."

"..."

"..."

"Oh! Did you hear that news? It's interesting!"

"It was in Gaelic."

I clutched my purse tightly, not to laugh out a hysteric laughter; bump my head onto the windscreen over and over; jump off this car. Yeah, this man was resolute and quick, like a sword, indeed; my supposition was right about the one thing, at least. I had to admit that Mr. Schiffer found a way that completely prevents all the possible troubles to occur if we can't be in touch by some accidents. Yet, this is also the least effective(and_ stupid_, with my all frustration) means to do that. What host in the universe would ask for a week leave just to drive around with a guest?!

Mr. Schiffer dropped his dogmatic decision onto my head in this morning. Before that, I couldn't fall asleep until the sky began to brighten, due to all my stupidity and the time difference matter. It made me be haunted by a weird dream again; this time, it was in the form of a man with a cleanroom garment, a pair of a bat's wing, and a green bass guitar. He swallowed the guitar, and started _du dum duming_ while playing his hair as if it was the bass' strings. The man's voice(or noise, to be exact) got louder and deeper, and I felt like my eardrums started getting shred. Just before I could cry out my pain, I found that the noise sounded like 'W-ake—up—M-iss—Ino—u—e'. When I woke up with a start, Mr. Schiffer was staring down at me in the soft glow of Edinburgh's morning sunlight. As he remembered that I had been surprised when he'd touched my shoulder, his hands were in the pocket. Well, it was quite civil for a guy, who had been attacked by a foreign girl's hug. Anyway, while I was rubbing my sleep out of my eyes, stretching the limbs, and rolling my neck, Mr. Schiffer was looking out of the window, still in that decent posture. Under the direct sunlight, his eyes held far more mystic hues. Under yesterday's rainy sky, they looked like a wet forest; today they were shimmering like a deep, mossy lake. It was as if I was gazing into some bottomless depth, where only a soul can reach... Gosh, did I look at him that openly, _again_? I tore my eyes off, and decided to observe my uninteresting fingernails. While managing a nervous giggle, my face burnt up probably for a hundredth time in front of this man.

"Ah, hahaha, it's a real beautiful morning, Mr. Schiffer. Did you find the way?"

"Yes."

"What would you do? Is it too tough for you? If so, I'll find another..."

"I shall accompany you."

"...excuse me?"

"I requested a week vacation until 30 June. I know that you will be flying back to Japan at 9:45 in the night on that day. I will go with you until then."

"How could you...no, it's not important. T-then, I must be too much of a nuisance! Do you think I'm weak because I'm an Asian girl and I look younger than ladies here? I'm a major and I can defend myself! Tatsuki, I mean, my best friend had taught me karate; she is one of the best karate master in Japan!"

However, even to my ears, I sounded like a teenage girl begging her father for a concert, rather than a mortified grown-up woman. Why can't I just be upset when it comes to Mr. Schiffer and all his bluntness? Instead of anger with his hurting my pride, eye-wetting embarrassment, an odd kind of thrill, and a minuscule relief were all I felt; I happened to have a tour guide, anyhow. Still, a sense of guilt kept poking at my conscience; would it be okay to take this proposal for granted? Before I could voice my protest, however, Mr. Schiffer quieted me down.

"It is not that I do not trust you, Ms. Inoue. It is a matter of my responsibility; I decided to take care of you for a week, and I must do it to the end. It takes six hours to Thurso by car. It is 9:24 in the morning, so we will have breakfast in my car. I hope you be ready before 10 o' clock."

Not to repeat the yesterday's mistake, I hugged myself. I don't know why, but it seems that I stepped into your territory, Mr. Schiffer. What might be happening in your world? What do you expect from me, when you already saw that I could be the biggest pain in your neck? Mr. Schiffer, do you _want_ to be with me now? Or, is it another rule newly nailed in your head?

When he turned his back and walked towards the door, numberless questions crossed my mind; I asked only one of them.

"Don't we take a train or a bus?"

"An automobile is the safest and the most convenient."

As the door closed, I slumped back onto the bed.

And here we were in Thurso now. We had left Mr. Schiffer's home at 10, and after riding for six hours, we arrived at the tranquil town around 4 in the evening. The sun already started setting, but what I wanted to do here was not a time-consuming task; to breathe the chilly, lung-freezing Arctic air even in June; to walk around this extensive, barren shore without sand or gravel; that was all. The wind from the North Pole was crisp and fresh as expected. When we dropped by a small shop to buy some mineral water, we learned that the low was 6 and the high was 9 today, both in celsius. Aaah, it was way better to get here at this time! The sun, which has been dyeing the sky spread out to the Arctic with its golden rays, started sinking over a cape at the western side of the coast. The colour of the sky changed rapidly, so that it looked like a dance of gigantic flames to my eyes; I forgot everything around me except the flamboyant display of Thurso's sunset. I wasn't even aware that my body got amazingly cold, before I felt a warm, heavy fabric on my shoulders. Involuntary shivers went down my spine due to the drastic contrast in temperature. I turned my head to thank Mr. Schiffer, only to find out that he draped his coat on me. Perplexed, I hurried to give it back to him, but his hands were already pressed onto my shoulders.

They were firm yet tender, and it made one of the questions bottled in my heart silp out.

"Mr. Schiffer."

His serene eyes on my face.

"Is this what you expected?"

Both of us were standing on the shore, like a pair of newly created rocks. The sun was already nowhere in sight, and the faint trace of rosy hues in the evening sky disappeared soon.

"I do not know."

His answer was quieter than the sea breeze, which started getting colder and stronger. I pulled out one of my hands from an inner pocket of his garment, to wrap it around his. Our hands were in the same temperature, since mine was heated a little in his cloth, while Mr. Schiffer's was exposed to the North sea's air.

"shall we go back, then?"

While we were returning to the car, Mr. Schiffer didn't take out his hand from mine.

* * *

This chapter is quite short, so I managed this part before midnight lol. I'm glad that some of you tried "Níl Sé'n Lá" by Celtic woman :-) It's a real beautiful song and I think it is sorta theme song of this fanfic lol. Don't be shy to point me out errors and to express your opinions X-)


	4. Chapter 4

After the first night, Mr. Schiffer didn't comment further on my schedule. For the entire trip around Scotland, he has driven me along the horizontally-flipped-3 shaped route mostly in silence; he wasn't the best one to talk with, really. Therefore, I has been forced to get used to the flows of broad Scottish accent from the car radio, since even I knew that it was risky to bug the driver for a conversation. I wasn't bothered much, though, because I could learn some Gaelic phrases. Let's see how much I know: "Dia dhuit." for "Hello.", "Cad is ainm duit?" for "What is your name?", "Sláinte!" for "Toast!", "Go raibh maith agat." is "Thank you.", and "Gráim thú" is "I love you"... looks like I've learned a lot.

The broadcast made me find a couple of beautiful Scottish songs, as well; most of them were Celtic Woman's, and I wholeheartedly agreed with a DJ's compliment to the songbirds; he said that they were 'the Scotland's voice'. Sadly, about a half of the lyrics were in Gaelic, and I didn't want to disturb Mr. Schiffer with my voice. So, the only way I could appreciate the heavenly music was to hum along, quieter than the melody. Still, I found it pleasant, because the tunes reminded me of last five days on this blessed land; Sometimes, I couldn't help but giggle with sheer delight whenever I recall the texture of the numerous 'lochs' and grassed plains-I was sure that I wouldn't be able to count the numbers of them even if I borrowed Mr. Schiffer's fingers-still tickling my feets. At that moment, my taciturn companion stared with a mild curiosity at my silly outburst through the rear-view mirror; it was the time for a small talk. To be exact, it was rather the moment for my random monologue. I couldn't control the direction of my babble, since "Hmm." or "I see." were the only responses from the listener. I listened to myself with him; there was another, unknown part of me in the trivial speech.

I've found out that I anticipated to see Nessie for sure at Loch Ness that was surrounded by the thick fog, which even the sunlight couldn't pierce into; In front of Fort William's narrow bay, I wished to visit Northern Europe someday, because the low walls of the charcoal basalt cliffs reminded me of their siblings with the opposite colour-Fijords; When I tried Haggis, I was surprised that I found it somewhat appetising. I wasn't sure though, if the Scottish dish actually tasted better than its notoriety, or it was just my so-called weird appetite. For a native here, Mr. Schiffer seemed that he didn't have a thing for the food.

I was also surprised that I could look as calm and placid as my silent listener, when talking about my past on the way from Dundee, the last travel spot before Edinburgh. It was filled with my abusive parents' violence and apathy, and the precious memories of my dear brother in Heaven, who had been the sole saviour of my agonising childhood; who was killed by a car accident only in his twenties. Have I finally mastered hiding and controlling all the anguish? I couldn't say yes though, since Mr. Schiffer's eyes stayed on mine with oddly strong and inexplicable emotions, even if I managed a smile at what I just said. He stayed like it for dangerously long that I had to warn him to look ahead.

As Mr. Schiffer knocked at my room's door, I was already sitting on my bed. It was because I've been accustomed to the demanding routine in a couple of days; to return home every night, we have managed all the course only in half the time of normal travellers'. It often made me cringe with the constant guilt that he must've been a lot more exhausted than me, since he had to be in a charge of the steering wheel, and I wasn't any help at all for the matter; I really didn't have a knack for machine, and I couldn't even treat him a nice dinner because my budget was as tight as our schedule. So instead, I tried to do my best in my own way; to keep smiling in spite of the pains in all my abused joints and muscles.

Opening the door, I saw the owner of this house standing in the doorway; he has been like this after we came from Thurso. I was about to tell him that he didn't need to drive any longer, since today was my last day in Scotland and I'd be looking around this city that I've been staying the nights. However, I noticed that he was making a weird face, and it wasn't that familiar to me.

Along with the Gaelic idioms and Celtic Woman's songs, I've learned to look into Mr. Schiffer's seemingly ever-impassive face after keeping him company for all this week. One can say that I was just imagining things, but I was certain that he had his own subtle way to express his emotions: his breathing got deeper and slower when he was faced with emergencies, such as a traffic jam or a moment when we found that a restaurant we had planned to go was suddenly closed; he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly whenever I got clumsy, like when I soak my clothes without care, or when I stumbled on-luckily enough, Mr. Schiffer always managed to catch me just before I actually hurt myself. He moved considerably quick for a normal city accountant... oh, the stereotype again-the uneven, stony road; the quiet man lightly nodded his head while appreciating nice views, wonderful dishes, or casting a glance at me when I was busy squealing over those beauties; when he felt like asking something, he always tilted his head a bit, and every time he did that, I enjoyed myself guessing what would be the question; I soon found it cute, sometimes when I managed the correct answer before he opened his lips, so that his eyes got bigger with mild astonishment at my play.

Mr. Schiffer's face this time was, however, nothing like any of them. Yet I felt a sense of deja-vu from the odd expression...where did I see that look? Ah, I finally remembered it; it was when he grabbed my shoulder on the first night here. Judging from the troubled eyes, something must've been bothering him and his plan again. As he barely opened his mouth that was sealed into a thin line, I quickly answered to his yet-to-be spoken request.

"It's okay. I'll stay here."

Mr. Schiffer closed his mouth again. I could tell that he was biting inside of the bottom lip of his; how did I know all this thing? Anyhow, I did my best to put a reassuring smile on my face, to follow up on my earlier statement. Out of nowhere, the man with Scottish scenery complexion got himself a few inches closer to me. Taken by surprise, I could do nothing but stare at those viridian orbs shimmering in the morning light, His warm breath was gently fanned onto my face, and this made it hard for me to keep the smile.

To my relief, Mr. Schiffer stepped backward, murmuring this with a soft sigh:

"Ms. Inoue, you are indeed..."

He abruptly cut the rest of the sentence, and turned his body to hurriedly go down the stairs.

"Don't you need me to do anything for you?"

He looked up at me from downstairs while throwing on his usual outerwear. I couldn't read anything from his complicated expression.

"I will finish this task as soon as possible."

Before I could point out that it wasn't the proper answer, he stormed out of this house; it was my turn to sigh. Oh, it looked like our lover of hygiene forgot to bring out the bin bag in his haste.

I was once again dumbfounded by the peculiar way the world runs. Still, there was the absolute number one rule: To knit all the complicated and the simple into the tight universal fabric. My head was all messed up now, though, when I was walking up a gentle slope in a daze. I wasn't even able to put on something better to go outside; underneath the thin windbreaker, I was only in a tee shirt and loose shorts that has been my nightclothes for last night. I had no idea that something trivial like a garbage bag could be a crucial key to a question that was lurking underneath my consciousness for all this time. I didn't know that the answer could lead this whole matter into something more confusing, either.

I let my eyes wander aimlessly into a thin layer of mist around me. An image of a tall, charming, and bubbly woman with long, wavy hair coloured with the Mediterranean turquoise appeared in the hazy, steamy wall. An hour ago, I ran across with the young lady; she introduced herself as Neliel-I couldn't recall her family name, because it sounded too long and complicated to memorise at once-or Nel in short. She appeared to be utterly impressed by an unfamiliar Japanese girl that jumped out of her next-door neighbour's entrance. What else did she say, after introducing ourselves?

"You've got to be kidding me! Mr. Schiffer posted an ad on some couchsurfing site? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Yes... I knew it when I saw him at first, but I remember his address well. Isn't it '12, cumin place, Edinburgh, England?'"

On this question, Neliel, or Nel seemed to be at a loss; she stared at me for a while, leaving both her eyelids and mouth open wide. Suddenly, an unnerving chill started creeping up the spine. The moment when I heard the beauty's loud, exploding laughter, the eerie feeling turned into a terrifying realisation. Oh, yeah, that was it.

"Hahaha, haha. Ah, sorry. Orihime is your name, right? Look, Orihime. As you can see, the buildings here look all the same. So even the posties often make mistakes. Whoa, I can't believe this kind of thing happened for real, though. Oh, now you just caught what goes on now, didn't you? Yeah, that was my address. I wanted to celebrate my breakup with some blue-haired, sneaky bastard. Who could know that the bloke would be flying off with a man! Next time I see that douche-bag scum, I'm gonna pull out all the ugly hair and shove it into his ears!...So, where were we? Oh, yes. A refreshing, dramatic, and thrilling encounter with a total stranger, that was I expected when I wrote the post! If the guest was a nice guy, I might be enjoying a short, wonderful romance. Or if it was a lovely girl like you, we would throw the craziest pajama party in the world for days! But I soon found I couldn't be a good hostess by any means, so I deleted it a couple of days later."

90 percents of my consciousness already was on a strike. With the rest of the intellect, I automatically nodded at whatever Neliel was happily chirping about. I hardly understood that she was still amazed at this coincidence; for five years in this town, she has been able to see him only a handful times; even his lifetime neighbours have been wondering if he really was just a government employee, not a secret agent from some kind of a special mission force.

Meanwhile, I was desperately whispering to myself:_ You did nothing wrong, Orihime._ Neliel said it was okay to write a letter in the ad, so It was all the stupid postman's fault; how could he deliver it to a wrong place for three times, even if 12 and 13 look quite similar?

Then, why did Mr. Schiffer answer all those wrong letters, instead of sending them back to the post office?

As if someone drew a repeat mark over the question, my brain kept turning into a mess every time I reached to this point. Now I was standing by a lake-there was no way I can come up with the name of it in this state-at the foot of Arthur's Seat. My face should look like Neliel's awestruck face an hour ago. While gazing at swans playing in the still water, a humid coldness started sipping into my jacket; it seemed that I has been wandering in this not-so-mild weather for too long. I couldn't go back to Mr. Schiffer's place, though. I wasn't ready to face him again; I didn't even know what to say, in the least. I slumped onto the nearest bench, and thought back on what I scrawled on a note that I left on the coffee table:

'Going out for a walk. I managed the bin bag. Inoue Orihime.'

I needed a whole notebook to write down all the questions swirling inside of my chaotic mind: Why didn't you say that the letters were not yours? What did you think when you first saw a strange girl popped up in your life? Did you find it funny to keep all those things secret from me?

Instead, I added only a single line.

'Ask Neliel.'

* * *

"I am the sky and the down and the sun" by Celtic Woman is also great X-) You can google it if you want to listen to those Gaelic phrases in this chapter. Hope you enjoy, and feel free to correct errors or share your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Yellow: all the problem has occurred from this colour.

Ulquiorra Schiffer was indeed a man of his word. If someone grade the sense of responsibility of the entire human race, he definitely would be ranked within 100th. So it was enough to amaze the whole Earth, that the Mr. Duty didn't even bother to double-check his work, let alone pay usual attention to the business that his boss had to give him an urgent call. When Ulquiorra ran into his home, however, he was the one astounded.

In the soft, dim glow of the 12:30 p.m.'s sunlight that was filtered by the low clouds and fog, he was standing in the sitting room, at a loss; a sheet of yellow paper was in his pale hand. The note was only in a couple of lines, but the message gave him a row of shocking blows. _Eventually, she found it out, left this, and walked away._ The houseowner didn't realise that he was worrying his lower lip to the point of drawing blood from there._ Should I go out to look for her?_ Ulquiorra studied the note for no less than 64th time: yellow; ink smudged here and there in her hurry; _Going out for a walk, I managed the bin bag, Inoue Orihime_; a blank underneath;_ Ask Neliel._

Seeing the last word of the message, sudden anger was shot from somewhere in his mind. Can I be able to ask Ms. Odelschwanck where Inoue Orihime did head to, without burning up the bizarre-coloured hair?

_Orihime_. Ulquiorra's lips silently formed the name; it has never come out through his vocal cord so far. He glanced down at the yellow piece of paper again; it was the very same colour of the first letter that came six months ago, from the woman.

If someone asked Ulquiorra why he didn't return the post-it started with_ 'Greetings. I write this letter in response of your ad on the website. My name is Inoue Orihime. As you can see in my name, I'm a Japanese girl, so Orihime is my given name. I'm turning into 23 in this September...'_-to the post office, he would keep long, deadly silence until the questioner give up. Before receiving her second letter, he couldn't grasp the reason for his impulsive act; now he could never say it out loud.

It was no wonder that Ulquiorra Schiffer became an accountant, since numbers had been his most favourite one of all things. They were the most basic and easiest units that break down the world into processable pieces; they were visible, unchangeable, and logical. Not to mention whole numbers, which are the neatest ones in the realm of certainty, all figures could be trimmed with the blade of round-off; no vagueness or unclearness here.

One could say that it was partially because of his parents' unexpected death by a train wreck that happened a decade ago, when he was 19. After the funeral, the orphaned young guy decided to completely protect himself from the mad, blind, and feral hand of unpredictability; he built a thick, solid wall that made up of rules· precautions· meticulousness· self-control. On the other hand, Ulquiorra spent a great deal of his inheritance on buying Murcielago; the unnecessarily expensive, needlessly fast, and the frustratingly non-durable vehicle was the epitome of his remaining impulse and imperfection. Thus, he could never share the thrill or pride of a Murcielago's owner. The car was a mere reminder of all the weakness he must lock up in its trunk.

For 10 years, the surviver of Schiffer family had been the sole lord of a one-manned castle. His narrow domain consisted of the following things: his own house that is cleaner than a semiconductor plant; a perfect row of summa cum laude on the record in his economics student year; another perfect line of work performance record in spite of his dreadful social skill; the neighbours' glances and whispers painted with curiosity and apprehension, which he only had found them unwelcoming; his daily routine on a firm, straight, monotonous line that was drawn between home and the workplace.

The mail from Japan was glowing with the colour of sunlight in his dull, colourless enclosure; it made his hands tear open the envelope in their own accord. On the letter inside, the sender's handwriting was all round and uneven, like grains of corn scattered about;_ oh, another yellow here._ After sliding his first reply into a postbox, Ulquiorra was hit by a sudden discovery that his inner realm had become sterile and lifeless to the point of withering to death, since it had been shut down for too long and too stubbornly to the outside. Unbeknownst to the logical self, his caged, primal ego sensed the Sun's omnipresent warmth and rays from the letter that crossed in the post by some mistake; it panted and growled inside him restlessly, longing and yearning for life.

The first sight of Inoue Orihime was beyond his expectation; from head to toe, she was in a flamboyant, vivid and warm complexion as if she was the Sun itself. The Asian girl with such exotic auburn, sunset hair was all soaked, and her sundress and shirt weren't in a condition to keep her from catching a cold; he should've hurried to make her acknowledge him. When she burst into gentle giggle despite her helpless situation, however, he could do nothing but stare at her in wonder, until she found him and let him hold her cooled, drenched hand in rain.

Witnessing the woman's radiating smile, the mesmerised man recalled how all things had looked just fine and good under the sunlight in his long-forgotten young, carefree days; Ulquiorra found out that all in his world shall look good and fine with Inoue Orihime.

_ I know that I can't tie you up to me forever. So instead, I wanted to keep you company for this whole week, at least._

Still clutching the now-wrinkled note, he muttered the rational, placid, desperate, and romantic monologue in his head.

The next moment, he shook his head.

_No, I desire to keep you by my side._

Ulquiorra stormed out of his home as hasty as he entered a while ago; he didn't even aware that the door was left unlocked.

I should've worn better shoes to climb this hill. These cheap, vinyl sneakers somewhat managed to block dewdrops on the grass, but they weren't any good at gripping the wet, slippery basalt path in fine rain and mist; I gave up counting how many times I've slipped and fell on the evil way. By the time I made it to the summit of Arthur's Seat, my knees and palms were all throbbing with pain; they must've been covered by bruises. Completely exhausted, I sat against the small stone marker at the peak of this world-famous hill. I rubbed the knees to ease some pain. Would Mr. Schiffer still grab me even on this challenging road? Out of nowhere, his face came across my mind. So, the only thing good about struggling to conquer this place was that I could be free from his thoughts. Hold on a sec, what time is it now?

My watch said it was 1 in the evening. If it was not this foggy and rainy, I might already be going back to Mr. Schiffer's place. Ah, the man again. All the worries I desperately pushed into the corner of my heart sprang free: Where is he now? What might he do now? Is he home? If so, would Neliel tell him well where I went? Would he be worrying about me, or would he think that I'll be home soon, because it's only 40 minutes walk from his home...on a sunny day?

I wiped tears that filled my eyes before I knew. My heart, meanwhile, was now tingling with sorry and concern:_ It doesn't matter, Orihime;_ it doesn't matter why he answered the wrong letter and accepted me into his house, doesn't it? He never did anything bad to you, or rather, he has been kind to me in his unique way, even though it was a little bit blunt; stop acting like a spoiled brat, especially on your last full day of your trip; let's walk, walk again, and meet Mr. Schiffer and listen to his story; If everything goes fine, we can be enjoying our last night with wonderful dark beer in a pub around this lovely city.

However, the fog only got thicker and thicker. At this moment, I felt as if I was drowning in a giant cup of milk. I stood up and attempted to move, only to realise that I can't see further than my arm's length. The only thing I was able to do was to slide back against the marker, and wait for the mist to clear away.

What if it gets dark? Can I go back before he calls the police?_ I'm so frustratingly stupid._ This time, I couldn't hold back the tears; they fell onto my aching palms and knees. No, crying would help nothing. I needed to do something; anything to keep my sanity. I pondered hard and decided to do one thing, out of few stuffs I could do in this hopeless situation.

_ Níl sé ina lá, níl a ghrá(Not a day, not my love)_

_ níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go maidin(It is not a day it'll not be until morning)_

The tune sounded awful in this quivering, nervous voice. I couldn't help but laugh at my funny noise, and it made the song sound worse.

_ níl sé ina lá is ní bheidh go fóill(It is a day not yet)_

_ solas ard atá sa ghealaigh.(high in the moonlight)_

I mused about why I made all this fuss. I pictured the neat and elegant handwriting on Mr. Schiffer's letters; his Scotland complexion-green, black and white-and those sensually warm hands; the firm, strong muscles under the smooth moonlight skin when he always caught me every time I stumbled; the faint, subtle, delicate emotions that often ghosted upon his calm visage; the way his soft breath was blown onto my face oh so gently in this morning...

'Ms. Inoue. You are indeed-'

What am I to you, Ulquiorra Schiffer? And what is it in reverse?

What and where would I be doing this night, anyway? Who would be with me then?Nothing reached to my ears; it was silent like an old, neglected, and forlorn tomb. Considering the weather, it was no wonder that I couldn't see anybody here. Still, I found it oddly funny that someone could be dying from hypothermia somewhere on the northern hemisphere in June, no, almost July. I finally stopped whispering the song, and buried my head in the folded arms. No, it was not that I would be falling asleep in this situation; it was just because my head started feeling heavy, and I was almost out of body heat to squeeze out from my frozen self. Come to think of it, I had my last meal in the previous evening. I couldn't think of something like food after all the ruckus from this morning.

When the fog spoke to me, I was feeling my still lukewarm breath.

"Orihime?"

Did I eventually start hallucinating? Still, I barely raised my head, to look at the direction of the voice. If I could be taken to the hospital alive, should I tell this?: Doctor, have you ever heard fog's voice? I have. It was absolutely gorgeous, and it sounded like Mr. Schiffer's-

"Orihime."

Mist couldn't make sounds of footsteps or rustling fabrics; it couldn't raise its voice to the point of a half-shout like that.

Opening my lips to answer the calling, I realised that my chin was trembling uncontrollably.

"...Mr. Schiffer."

The sound was ceased for a brief time, before approaching here. I covered my face in both hands, because it has got all wet and messed up with rain, mist and my tear. I failed to calm down my ragged, short breathing, though. I soon sensed Mr. Schiffer's presence in front of me. I heard another rustle of his clothes, something hard and heavy touching the ground, and his deep yet slightly hard breath over my head. I knew he was now kneeling before me, but I still couldn't take my hands off. Only silence and layers of mist surrounded us for a while.

When he covered my ice-cold hands in his searing ones, a sharp shiver went through my body. Our joined hands were now in the air, and my face was revealed to him.

"I'm sorry."

I wished with my whole heart that I could put my all apology into those simple three words. I smiled up at him with my all might, in spite of the contorted, shaking lips from silent sobs. My sight was blurred with tears. So I tugged the hands that were still caught in Mr. Schiffer's, to wipe my eyes.

The next instant, his thumbs gently brushed over my wet eyelashes, still holding my fisted hands. I could see his damp, ruffled hair and the darkened green eyes like this gloomy weather. The man with troubled eyes was biting the inside of his lower lip again. I see, Mr. Schiffer. You feel like crying when you make that face. Another wave of tears surged to my eyes, so that I had to bite my lips just like him.

"I'm sorry."

The quiet man pulled down his hands with mine, and gently put them onto my knees. After being hesitant at a first-few centimetres, he leaned his upper body towards me with determination. Admiring his nearing face and raging thirst in those beautiful eyes, I discovered one thing: the reason of this strange encounter; it didn't belong to us. It wasn't like any of some high-sounding, obscure ideas faking the absoluteness. Thus, there was no need to call it karma, destiny, or fate. It was just-

The moment Mr. Schiffer's burning lips were pressed onto my moist, cold ones, I thought that I saw tiny sparks from the thermal reaction.

* * *

Yay for kisssss ^0^ Hope you enjoy, and allow me to know and correct errors; feel free to share your thoughts!

ps. In this chapter, please pretend that you're listening to "When the sunshine comes (Cradle Orchestra Remix, feat. Ryoko Anan)" by Kero One!


	6. Chapter 6

*Warning: This chapter contains mature themes. If you don't have a thing for a steamy sentimental frickle frackle, I recommend you not to read this part.

* * *

'Bola' is a kind of Native Americans' hunting kit; the tool consists of a long piece of string and two(or more) wooden or stone spheres; the balls are tied at both ends of the cord. When the hunters throw it, the weapon automatically binds itself around the game.

What will be happening then, when its cord is super-elastic, and someone stretches it as far as the whole globe, then releases it? Probably the balls at the opposite side of the string will fly towards each other at an unstoppable speed, crush their counterparts' shell, and collide with one another's core.

I know this is quite an absurd metaphor, but I can't think of anything better to describe the phenomenon between me and Mr. Schiffer; we were tied with some powerful, universal bola, and its unknown owner let go of the string at his(or her) own timing, after extending it to the distance between Japan and Scotland.

Therefore, after the kiss at Arthur's Seat, it was perfectly natural and normal for us to strip off each other's damp, soiled clothes upon entering the front door. We didn't even bothered to go up to one of the bedrooms; either did we care that we were messing up this tidy living room with muddy droplets and torn blades of grass.

As we collapsed onto the couch at the sitting room, our body scents got mixed around ourselves. With greedy, ragged, and short breath in unison, we drank up the mixture of warm, raw skin that had been hidden under the man-made fragrances; heady perspiration; damp coolness of rain and moss. While our garments were flying off to somewhere in this space, none of us made any sound except our mingled panting and sighs. We were too absorbed to be audible, as we were attacking each other's every part above the collar bone with open-mouthed sucking, pecks, pressing, licks, pokes with pointed tongues, and grazing the teeth here and there.

I was first to let out a startled moan, since Mr. Schiffer's open-wide palms slid up my bare side, where I got especially ticklish. He pressed his lips into the juncture of my ears and neck; they vibrated ever so slightly on the sensitive flesh ... Wait, what? Did he just...?

When he raised his head, all my movements stopped, along with my fingers that were working on the buttons of his shirt. No way could I even flinch, though, in front of that hint of attractive smirk on the ever-masklike face...

"Are you afraid?"

On his own question, Mr. Schiffer's smile that misted around his lips was gone. Feeling sorry for that, I held back the admiration of _'You should smile more often. Why have you kept the beautiful look all to yourself?'_. I pondered on his inquiry, gazing at his now serious expression.

If Mr. Schiffer asked if I was afraid of this situation, I'd say no with confidence. This was my first time to be intimate with someone this far, yes to that, but it didn't mean that I've valued my virginity too highly; being orphaned in early years, I just had been too busy surviving on my own to go out with a guy, and all those purity and chasteness stuffs are sort of the male-biased...oh, not a time for feminism.

If the question was about the future, however, the answer would be hesitant, sad yes. I was afraid that we had only 16 hours or less to the sunrise to come. It wasn't much comfort that the airplane to Japan would be departing at 9:45 at night. When the Sun comes out, I would go back to my homeland little by little; Pieces of myself must be gradually leaving this place as I start to think about the old routine, academic work, and other things I had paused for this short, somewhat surreal escape. After that, on the flight to Japan might be only a hollow container of my soul that would already be there.

I couldn't tell this to the solemn-faced man. So instead, I raised my hands and cupped his cheeks. As I just learned for the first time in my life, I brushed my lips on his thin, soft ones at a right angle. Then I squeezed my eyes shut._ I'm trying, Mr. Schiffer; I'm trying not to be afraid, or at least to put it off for some hours._

"No, I'm not afraid."

As my answer vibrated through his lips, Mr. Schiffer softly exhaled a long breath through the nostril. I undid the rest of his buttons, slid the upper garment from his shoulder, and tore off my lips. His mystic orbs were full of dim, cold sorrow, which I was also feeling myself. I bit inside my lower lip and made a small smile to shoo away the depressing emotion.

My slowed heart skipped a beat when sudden intense embers were ignited in those jade green eyes; it was like a pair of micro suns rose in his depths. What did make them blaze like that? Would his heart be beating as fast as mine? I gave into the urge to place my hand on Mr. Schiffer's surprisingly broad chest, but he was faster than me. His marble-white appendage caught both my wrist to place them over my head; my hands were now tied up in the air.

"M-Mr. Schiffer? Why you do this all of a su-"

"It's Ulquiorra."

It seemed that my pale partner gained an unknown sort of momentum in his action. Before I could let out any vocal response, he lifted my chin and grazed his teeth over my exposed neck. I was only able to manage breathless "Huh?" in this posture. That pose also made Mr. Schiffer's following answer muffled and a bit slurred.

"It's Ulquiorra, Orihime."

"U-Ulqui...orra?"

To my astonishment, rows of intense flame swept across my body, only by calling his given name. As I gasped from the frightening yet blissful sensation and him pinning me down on the sofa's cushion, Ulquiorra's burning tongue drew another trail of fire along my neck, chin and lower lip before diving into my mouth with such vigor.

_ This woman under me, the woman now I'm touching might be an illusion created by some part of myself, after being so fatigued with the long-time isolation and solitude. Maybe I stole the letter from Ms. Odelschwanck's postbox. If this is nothing but a dream, I might be greeting the most horrible morning in the lifetime, wrapped in my dirtied clothes by my own sweat and other body fluids. Ah, how long has it been since I came up with this kind of things?_

Amongst all the elements in his hometown, the most despised one by Ulquiorra Schiffer's standard was the myths about fairies and monsters that were believed to be hiding in Scotland's lochs, mist and mountains. He did never liked them nor gave credit to the tales of uncertainty and mockery. _Had they been real, they should be visible to everyone;_ that was Ulquiorra's unchanging opinion on the magical creatures.

Nevertheless, the time he cupped Inoue Orihime's soft-far softer than the tenderest cake he had ever tried-breast under her brassier; dug his canine into her ivory skin over the jugular, being careful not to hurt the fragile flesh; put out his tongue again to glide up along the long, slender, elegant neck to paint her earlobe with licks in a fastidious manner, Ulquiorra believed and feared that the Sun-blessed girl was slipping through his finger like one of those imaginary lives.

_ Will she remain here until taking her flight, even after the Sun rises 16 hours later?_ His hands on her sweet, quivering body got more and more desperate by each second. Under the frightened man's caresses, Orihime was showing a million displays of sensitivity, shyness, and pleasure: he saw it from her fevered, dulcet sigh; delicate, tiny mewls and moans ringing from her throat; the honey-coloured eyelashes and succulent, shiny lips fluttering and shivering like a butterfly's wings; the neck and spine curving into oh so elegant arch; the woman's soft, smooth, trembling thighs bared to his zealous fingertips._ I'd rather wish you be a wicked fairy from whatever lochs or hills to play with all my disbelief in-_

_ No, it must not be_. Ulquiorra clenched his teeth. How a mere hallucination could be this unexpectable, eccentric and clumsy, while being this physical, warm-hearted, and insightful? He found it quite unfair that only she could read his thoughts and emotions that weren't even clear to himself._ Your eyes are flashing with so many feelings, and it makes me have trouble with deciphering your mind. Orihime, you said that you weren't afraid. What was the look when you spoke out the words, then? ...No, I won't allow it more; you'll not put your hand on my heart. Probably you already looked into me again. Still, you can't hear my heart cursing the next morning to come with the worst hatred in the world._

_...Could it be also - what you're scared of?_

If it was so, Ulquiorra Schiffer wouldn't let Inoue Orihime think about anything but his ministrations that clearly was tangling her all strings of nerve. He wanted nothing but Orihime's body heat· softness· moisture· aroma, as well, at least for 16 hours.

Now only a pair of boy shorts were on her breathless form. The underwear was snug around her full hip, yet its colour and design was too girly and innocent for her age. Before Ulquiorra could smile at this now familiar oddness, his fingers unhooked her bra. Ulquiorra didn't aware of the intense flame sparked in his viridian irises, the moment his eyes fell upon the woman's heaving breasts; they were rounded with curves smoother than the gentle slopes around his hometown; on top of those ample, fleshy mounds were a pair of pert, peach nipples, which were getting hardened by his fingertips and the air. Not wasting any time, he leaned onto his new-found, personal feast.

It was too much; too much stimuli were bombarding me. I could barely notice the look of the concentration on Ulquiorra's heated face. If he had had watercolours on his lips and fingers, I must've been all covered with them from head to toe. When I was freed from my bra, however, I didn't expect that he would coat my breasts-especially, the tips-again and again with such utmost interest; it was as if his small kisses, circling tongue, and persistent fingers were painting the peaks like oil paints over and over. Since I myself hadn't touched them that much, I was amazed at the intense, exquisite current from Ulquiorra's every single stroke. My head and spine soon started twisting out of my control._ Ah, is this the feeling?_ My thundering heartbeats deafened my ears, while my eyes went blind from trembling eyelids of mine. My body was blanketed in thick layers of unbearable heat. Some unknown kind of pressure started filling up my inside. I felt as if I turned into a boiling water rocket; the pressure kept building, building, and building until-

Eventually, I soared up to the euphoria, when his hard thigh pressed and rubbed itself into my nether legion with gentle firmness; I've never felt this...indescribable. I went too high up in somewhere around this blissful heaven, so that it took a long while to stop my hips from rolling themselves on Ulquiorra's thigh. I was a sobbing, panting mess under him shadowing over me. While I kept grinding my burning, throbbing core to ride out my orgasm, he emitted a string of low, quiet groans into my mouth between passionate kisses, and I found out that I soaked my shorts and some part of his pants with my release._ Who's this naughty, content girl?_ As I finally calmed my body and breathing, I felt somewhat bemused at what just happened to me.

Ulquiorra let go of my wrists and stood up. As he placed his hands on the belt, I braced myself onto the elbows of mine. He stopped to stare at my movement. I answered only with a grin to the question in the moss-coloured eyes before me:_ I think it's time to return what you gave me._

Everything in the world is two-faced; being different is no exception. We hate each other because we are different: white and black people have done so; England and France have done so; and normal animals and the albino have done so. Still, it has been the biggest cause of attraction: the east and the west have been so; most of the female and male have been so for billions of years.

Out of all Mr. Schiffer's, I mean, Ulquiorra's traits, his physique was the polar opposite of mine. I kissed, tasted, stroked, and brushed all the lovely differences; his lean yet hard and square build; the moon-silver-and-snow-blessed skin; the thick and soft midnight hair; those outstanding, jade eyes that I would never get enough of. _Could I forget this man, until the day I die?_ I brushed his bangs away, and kissed the fair, elegant forehead underneath. To swallow down a sudden lump in my throat, I slowed my exploration. I gingerly kissed all the way down, passing through unique-would Ulquiorra get upset if he knew that I felt somehow better with their interesting shape?-eyebrows; thick, long eyelashes that made me feel both jealous and affectionate; the earlobes that seemed to be as sensitive as mine; his Adam's apple protruding from the hard-looking neck; straight collarbone beneath the mannish feature; beautiful muscles carved into a perfectly chiselled form due to daily exercise-I finally asked Ulquiorra how he could be so agile-and gene; last but not least, the most masculine part of his body, pointed by a pair of hip bones.

On the contrary to the popular belief, I wasn't that ignorant of sex; I had been a member of health committee at high school for three years, after all. So I knew exactly what was happening on Ulquiorra at this moment. However, when leaving just a couple of centimetres to his, uh, erection that was tenting his boxers, I couldn't let my hands go further, and it was because of a fear of myself. I would get hurt anyhow; I heard it from my experienced friends. It was not the point, though. I wasn't sure if I could be standing the pain enough not to worry him; I also didn't know how he might feel when he found that I've been a virgin for all this time. I wanted to ask him_: I don't want to ruin this moment with my own little problem. What can I do?_ I raised my head to find the answer in his eyes. At the same time, I wrapped my trembling hand around Ulquiorra's aroused length.

With every single touch from Orihime, Ulquiorra continued to lose his sanity in the most ecstatic way. He struggled with all his might to hold back pleasured grunt and moan to come out of his own throat. So, this is what you felt a while ago. Of course, there must be a difference, since her skin was much softer and tenderer than his. Yet he thought that it didn't matter. He had nothing to do with anything else for now: the brazen, innocent sunlight after the cloud and mist, which he almost lost the auburn-haired woman in their maze; never-ending chores awaiting the houseowner; loads of questions that would come from his nosey neighbours, coworkers and bosses about his recent strange behaviour; Orihime's smiling face and lively voice that only could be in his memory; a freezing, huge void that would gnaw his soul after her departure; a confusion in her bright, sunset eyes when her hand finished its journey around his body on the hardened organ.

Ah, the last one was what he should care about. Ulquiorra tried to open his eyes that were closed from Orihime's sensual yet timid caress. He was greeted by her downcast eyes, blush dusting the round cheek, one palm of hers moving over his length, and erratic breath from those parted, rosy lips. Out of nowhere, a fog of uncertainty was summoned around her._ My troubled Sun,_ buzzed through his dazed brain. Ulquiorra decided to mirror the woman's action; he covered her tiny hand in his grip, slowly moved them together along his shaft, and tried to lift the both sides of his lips upward at her. If a smile was scent, Ulquiorra's one would be the faintest trace of it. It was enough, however, to drive out the threatening mist from the Sun-like visage before him._ I should try smiling more often._ His smile got wider and more vivid. As Orihime gave the giddy look back at him, he gently pulled off her hand from his arousal. He didn't say anything like_ I'll be gentle_ or_ Tell me if it's too much_, yet Ulquiorra was sure that she saw those promises in his eyes.

He let my legs wind themselves around his hips, and supported my bottom. As we were heading upstairs, I buried my nose in Ulquiorra's coarse, silken strands and tried to feel his heartbeats through my chest touching his; they were fast, and thumping at the same tempo of my heart. A step upwards, one simultaneous pulse, and another step towards our destination; each of them caused a peculiar wave of grief, anticipation and lust.

When I crossed the threshold, I was dangling from him, almost naked. I would look quite inappropriate to enter a man's room in this state; I soon forgot about it, though, when he cautiously laid me down on his bed. It was the time; time to connect one another. Still, I was wishing my heart out that his pleasant body heat stay on my body to eternity. Ulquiorra stared down at me for quite a long while, before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my only clothing. I saw it from his verdant, shadowed orbs that he was hoping the very same thing as me.

_ Three more seconds and all my muscles will be paralysed in this position._ In this moment, Ulquiorra couldn't move any body parts, except his lips swallowing Orihime's tiny sighs, sobs and tears in her inevitable pain, and his one hand that were repeatedly clenching and unclenching itself in her long, fine and feathery locks.

The woman under him was too hot, damp, tight, and sweet for him to bear. Waiting for her to get relaxed, Ulquiorra let out quiet, short pants into her velvety mouth. Apparently it was Orihime Inoue's first time. Yet, he didn't agree with the general opinion about taking virginity and a sense of victory(or relief) from it. Ulquiorra knew that the reason for his objection of the common view might sound a tad bit sappy: Out of all her characteristics, her chasteness was not within his recognition from the start; even if Orihime had been experienced, Ulquiorra Schiffer must've gotten attracted and flustered in her tender, glorious presence. _Flustered;_ he readily approved this term, because he was now only a hair's breadth away from explosion. To hold back the ecstasy to come, the man on the brink decided to listen to his inner, random, and urgent rambling.

_ Orihime. As I said earlier on the hill, I have never skipped daily exercise. I didn't find it pleasant so far, though. To move my body on a regular basis; it was nothing but a little bit bothersome task to stay fit as long as possible. Sweat always had been unwelcoming; I had never liked muscular aches that came when I didn't flex them properly, but-_

Orihime started breathing more calmly. Her sweaty hands covered his tense chin; her hips swayed slightly as approval. The noise in Ulquiorra's head were all silenced at the small gesture. After retreating, he slowly thrust back his member into her small, narrow warmth. Their bodies were lubricated with a fine, glistening layer of sweat and Orihime's juice. Gliding over her smooth, shivering curve, Ulquiorra found that she smelt especially savoury at this moment.

This was really a memorable pain, since it was a special, rear one; it was different from any of everyday pains. The muscles that I've never used or acknowledged were stretching to the point of a stinging, tearing feeling, but I could bear with it anyhow. I was sure that Ulquiorra's patience was one of the biggest reasons of it. Even if I insisted on moving faster, he would wait for me to be ready for sure; he did so with all those clenched teeth, narrowed eyes, and tousled, wet hair. As he was moving in and out of me with slow, long strokes, I heard myself gasping and panting. Another wave of pressure was getting increased inside me; it was a lot more intense, heavier, and higher this time. Air was stuck at the top of my lungs. My eyesight started getting whitened once more._ No, not this early!_ But I could do nothing in this sensory overload.

After Orihime reached her climax again, Ulquiorra had to keep grinding his hips for several minutes to find his release in her slick, flowing walls. The moment he followed his partner's suit, Ulquiorra whispered her name over and over in a quivering, sighing, and gasping voice; just as Orihime did with his name a while ago.

It took a lot more while for Ulquiorra to remember anything other than Orihime's name; it was after he finally slowed his movement to a stop, collapsed onto her, and snuggled his burning, sweating face between the generous valley of the woman's bosom. Ulquiorra listened to soft thumps from Orihime's heart underneath his ear, while feeling her small fingers digging into his disheveled hair. Silence cast over their exhausted bodies.

Orihime was the first one to move. The moment her chest shuddered, Ulquiorra immediately noticed that it was because of sobs. He raised himself a bit on elbows, only to see that her face was all covered with tears. The woman under him did nothing to wipe them off. Instead, she cried, sobbed and wept like a child. He didn't dry those tears either. Ulquiorra knew it; he knew what Inoue Orihime was saying with those stormy eyes, trembling lips, and the knotted eyebrows, since his own heart was about to burst with the very same word of hers.

"I don't want..."

By the time she finally spoke, golden, ruddy hues began to soak into the setting sunbeam; the colours crossing the sky only in a short time. Ulquiorra buried his face into those ephemeral shades that were kept in Orihime's fine locks, which were spread in a wild, dazzling wave over his bedsheet.

"I don't want...to go back."

* * *

Whoa this one was twice longer than the previous chapters ;_; It took me almost eternity to translate XD but I made it.

I'd be real happy if you listen to "Rocketeer" by Far East Movement, allow me to know where I made mistakes, and share your thoughts.


	7. Finale

#1

"…"

"…"

"Orihime."

"…"

"What if, I have made you be by my side?"

"…yes?"

_《__This is our final boarding call JAL 406 from Glasgow to Narita. If you have contracted this transportation, please board immediately and find your ensured seat. The final boarding call once again…》_

#2

"Earth to Orihime!"

"Whoa!"

"Did you doze off again? How many times I told you to sleep early?"

"Oh, it was you, Tatsuki. You scared me… When did I just fall asleep?"

"You′ve got real weird in your sleep pattern. How can you go to bed at 3-4 in the morning and wake up at 8?"

"Do I? Hehe, I sometimes surprise myself. I go like that even in holidays, but I don′t feel refreshed much. Maybe that′s why I keep nodding off in daytime. Well, looks like I′m still having jet-lag."

"Haha, you′re setting a world record then. It′s been 2 months from the trip!"

"…Is it already?"

#3

"Yes, come in… My, what brings you here, Mr. Schiffer? Are you dealing with some kind of conjugal tax criminals?"

"I am merely here to inquire something by myself, Mrs. Halibel."

"…Did you just sneak out of your office to ask about personal stuffs? Are you really that Mr. Schiffer? Do you know that you′re now the most popular interest in whole Edinburgh?"

"I need you to answer three questions."

"Oh, that′s now the Mr. Schiffer I know; straight to the point as always. Fine, how can I help you?"

#4

"Long time no see, Kurosaki-kun! Oh, who′s this person beside you?"

"Yeah, ′s been a long time, Inoue. You still work at the bakery? Ah, this is Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. He′s sorta exchange student here from this semester. Grimmjow, this is Inoue. Inoue Orihime, my classmate."

"Kurosaki-kun? Why are you speaking in English…Ah, I see. Are you from an English-speaking country, Mr. Jaegerjaques?"

"Ye′re reight. Great tae meet ye. Is Orihime yer first name, dhun? Sorry. I only know 'Konbanwa' and 'Arigatou' in Japanese."

"Nice to meet you, too. Judging by your accent…hmm…you′re from Scotland, correct?"

"Ohh, ye′re queite clever. It′s hard tae tell when ye′re not born therr. Yes, I′m from Edinburgh."

"Edinburgh… have you heard of one named 'Neliel'?"

"…I, I dunno what ye sayin′? Ha, haha. ′s it sorta a Cereal brand?"

"What′re you talking about, Inoue? What′s Neliel?"

"I hope your hair and ears are safe when you go back there. Nice meeting you, Grimmjow. See you, Kurosaki-kun!"

"What′s the Neliel thing about you? Is the cereal dangerous?"

"…Yeah. ′s dangerous fer a bisexual."

#5

'-so Tatsuki scolded me again. Oh dear, I really am getting aged. I wasn′t this tired even after staying up a couple of nights, and it was just half year ago!'

"So I told you, for multiple times, not to stay awake until 3 or 4 in the morning. Or you can leave a message."

'Haha, but this is the only time I can hear your voice.'

"You are able to call me anytime except from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m., or 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. in your time zone."

'No.'

"…No for what?"

'You sound the most gorgeous when you′re leaving the office, and exhausted from work.'

"…"

'Ah, you laughed, Mr. Schiffer! I caught you, right?'

"It was just a wind. And I told you it′s Ulquiorra, Orihime."

'…n, no.'

"No for what?"

'Whenever I call the name, i-it reminds me of t-those moments when we…'

"…"

'Good night!'

"…I _definitely_ need more workouts today."

#6

"Okay, easy, easy, Orihime. I promise. I won′t hit you or yell at you. So just spit it out. I′ll act as cool as a fish in freezer."

"…Are you sure, Tatsuki?"

"You bet! You wanna see your face now? You′re as white as a piece of chalk! Did you see a ghost, or a pervert? If the latter, I′m gonna beat the shit out of the yucky bastard, not you!"

"A pervert…Yeah, probably you′re right. He must be a pervert! If he wasn′t…_ugh!_"

"Where should I go?"

"Edinburgh."

"…heh?"

"The doctor said that, I'm 6 weeks into pregnancy."

#7

"You did it! You did it _on purpose_! Don′t you dare say no. Just confess it, since I can′t hit you or yell at you for a good while! Is this why you said at the airport, t-that you could′ve made me be by your s-side?"

"Is it confirmed?"

"Believe me. I went to three different clinics! I really wasn′t sure if that was the reason, or rather, I didn′t want to believe it. Oh, no wonder all this thing happened to me. How many times we′d done _it_ until the next morning…_Ahh, what am I saying?!_"

'I somewhat left it to chance, but 10 times appeared to be enough.'

"D, d, did you count all the…?"

'I still can vividly recall each one of them, Orihime.'

"…"

'…I apologise. My greed got you into trouble.'

"…"

'Everything gets mixed when it comes to you. I was fully aware that you are still too young to have a family, and you have your own life. Still, when I made love to you for the first time, the moment you cried like that, I eventually gave into the blind desire for filling your loneliness with mine, and holding you by my side.'

"No."

'No for what?'

"You should come here for a proposal."

#8

(15th Sep. 11 a.m., Narita Airport's entry place)

"It is been a while, Orihi…"

_"Keiser Soze!"_

#9

(Same day, 2 p.m., Karakura Univ.)

"So, you′re the pervy old man, who knocked Orihime up?"

"Tatsuki, please…"

"…I will not deny the title."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Take a good care of her, or I'll take the fastest flight and crush your all fours."

"P-please excuse her, Mr. Schiffer. Tatsuki has been my best friend for more than-"

"I will, with all my heart."

#10

(same day, 11 p.m. Inoue Orihime's apartment)

"Wa, wait! I heard that it′s dangerous to d-do it in the early stage?"

"We will try it- in a different way."

"A di, _mmnh_, different way?"

"Like this."

"Eh, eeeeeh? Mr. Schiff-no, Ulquiorra! It's not that pretty… why are you looking at it so close- _ahh!_"

#11

"When I sought advice on this matter, I received an answer that you have not any serious legal problem in moving to Scotland with me. If you want to have a wedding ceremony-"

"I don′t need it. I don′t have anyone to lock my arm. But…"

"but?"

"I'd like to have a bachelor party!"

"…It is a bridal shower, in your case."

"I meant it! It′s quite unfair to get married after 'being knocked up'!"

"I shall buy two tickets for the earliest flight to Edinburgh."

"Ewww, humour me!"

#12

"His name is Sora."

"Is it after your deceased brother?"

"Don′t you like it?"

"No. It sounds nice."

"This boy will grow up as kind and strong as my brother, and live far longer than him, of course."

"Agreed."

"And he′ll have your eyes and my hair."

"Are you confident of that?"

"Isn′t it funny? What if this little one looks like an ordinary Scottish, while he is a half-Asian? Haha!"

"Do not make a fun with your own baby."

"It′s more than a joke! It′s from a mother′s hunch."

"I have a father′s inkling, then."

"Mmn, it sounds more like a 'plan' or 'scheme', rather than an 'inkling'…"

"It is an inkling."

"Fine. What′s that?"

"We will have three children."

"Hehe, it doesn′t surprise me much when you keep watching for every chance to touch me, even though I can′t even walk outside the garden now… Oops, you didn′t hear the last part, Sora!"

"It cannot be a bad thing. When the mother is loved, it gives a good influence on the child."

"But the 'love' in your version is… uuh."

"I shall give one of those 'effects' now."

"Please… stop making that face. How can I reject it when you give the look?"

* * *

Mkay. Thank you for bearing with this absurd series X-) Hope you found anything enjoyable in this fic anyhow. I can't come up with any good song that suits this part now. You can listen to some sweet, bright, joyful one. Thank you again for reading, and the characters here are all belong to Kubo Tite.


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